


Contemplation

by zosimos (trismegistus)



Series: Sceptre of Flamel Prompt List: The End of Dreams [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:04:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trismegistus/pseuds/zosimos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sceptre of Flamel: Where to go, from here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contemplation

The moon sat low on the horizon, heavy and full. Its light glistened on the fields spread out in all direction, reflecting off the freshly fallen snow. The clouds that had delivered the snow had since moved on, leaving the night cold and clear, the sky painted over with stars.

Edward Elric stood on the roof of the Rockbell house, the cold biting through the thin shirt he wore. He wasn't used to this roof, his feet were bare in the snow, his flesh foot having a better grip on the worn shingles than the automail.

He'd been up here an hour, almost, just watching. Resembool was spread out below them, the lights spilling from windows warm and inviting, smoking curling thick from chimneys where hearth fires were stoked. In the far distance, further than he thought he should be able to see on a clear day, the movement of a train coming down the tracks. This late at night it wasn't a passenger train, it was probably a military supply train.

There had been a lot of military supply trains passing through Resembool lately. The entire country was in turmoil. The Fuhrer was dead, along with half his personal staff. Generals were at each other's throats, fighting over control of the country while the countries to the north and west were prodding at Amestris's borders, sensing the small military country's weakness.

It didn't help that the capital city of Amestris, Central City, had just been torn apart by a huge battle. Military resources were low, civilian morale was lower. The country was in trouble.

There were larger things at stake at the moment than the security of one tiny militarized country. Edward lifted his head to the night sky, his breath visible in the winter air. They were out there still, he knew. Samael was dead, slain by the sword of an archangel. His followers were many, and now they scattered. Not just in Amestris, all over the world these demons lay waiting, in pockets and splinter cells, just waiting to be united under someone's banner.

The nephilim, too. Aariniel had pledged her small village's loyalty to the banner of the Seventh Lineage, but there were still so many out there that held fealty to no one. The nephilim were a wild card in this war, and the Triumvate were ignoring them.

It was frustrating as all hell. Straight out of one fight with the homunculi and the future of the nation at stake and embroiled right into another one. Edward crouched on the rooftop, presenting less of a profile as the train's horn sounded in the distance. It didn't appear to be slowing down at all, that was good. Resembool was a tight-knit town, and they were protective of their residents. It didn't matter that Edward was wanted by the Amestrian military, no local was going to give up that he was here.

He heard the door on Winry's balcony open, and glanced down. Alphonse stood on the porch, his breath as visible as Edward's. It was remarkable how fast he was recovering, it was not even a year since they'd used the Philosopher's Stone to restore his body and he was already fully mobile. The atrophy was gone from his muscles and he'd shot up in height, clearing six foot easily. Barely seventeen and he already looked like the older brother, too.

Alphonse was staring out at the town as well, arms wrapped around himself for warmth. He was wearing a turtleneck and jeans, heavier clothes than Edward and Edward could see him shivering already. Edward shifted on the roof and snow slid off the eaves. Alphonse glanced up, over his shoulder. "Are you done having a sulk, brother?"

His voice was clear in the cold winter air. Edward had all but forgotton why he was out here, the fight he'd had with Alphonse over dinner, voices raised and silverware clattering. Alphonse and Winry wanted him to stay in Resembool, to keep him safe and keep an eye on him. Winry wanted him to forget all this foolishness ... and do what, he wasn't sure.

Edward had never been sure what he was supposed to do once their battle had been won. Settle down and have a family? Maybe Alphonse would be able to do that, but that never would have been in the cards for him. The road was all he knew.

So they'd fought, and Edward had gone out to the roof to have a sulk. He had wanted to fly, he forgot everything that bothered him when flying, when it was just him and the air and the clouds (and the occasional birds, they gave him the nastiest looks but he just found it funny now). It was too clear for him to get away with it, though - he couldn't risk being seen. He'd had a few close calls already; there were muttered rumors of a winged chimera that lived in the mountains and every time they heard about it in town Winry gave him a nasty look.

"I'm not sulking," Edward muttered, which was clearly a lie. He spread his wings, the thin material of his shirt a lost cause, and used them to slow his slide from the top of the eaves to the balcony beside Alphonse.

Alphonse shook his head as Edward rose from the crouch, wings mantled above him. The pure white feathers caught the moonlight as easily as the snow did, washing out the color of Edward's skin too. "I still can't get used to that," Alphonse murmured.

"That makes two of us," Edward said as his wings dissolved into the aether. He leaned against the rail, knocking snow from the ledge with the movement. "We can't stay here, Al."

"I know," Alphonse said quietly. "I do wish you'd change your mind."

"You're in danger as it is," Edward said. "Right now the military has a few things more important to deal with, but eventually they'll realize I ran off and will come looking for me."

"Then I'll come with you." Alphonse's voice was firm - and had changed. It had gotten deeper than Edward's, four years of puberty slammed into him like a brick wall. "We'll go together, brother."

"No." Edward looked out at the town in front of them. "Winry will cry if we both leave again, Al. Stay here with her."

"Winry's going to cry regardless."

Edward took a deep breath. "Al-"

"I know." Edward looked up at his younger brother - Alphonse wasn't looking at him, but up at the stars. "I can't follow you down this road, Ed. No matter how much I want to, I can't." He heaved a great sigh. "You've done so much for me, and now when you need me I can't help you at all."

"Al," Edward said, straightening. He touched Al's arm with his left hand. "You're the best little brother I could have ever asked for, you know?" Alphonse met his eyes. "I don't want you to follow me down this path. Here is where you belong, now."

"When are you going to leave?"

Edward looked back toward the house. He couldn't see him, but he could feel his presence, warm and comforting in his mind. "As soon as Roy is able to." He sighed. "I don't know how long that will be."

"This will always be a safe place for you to return to," Alphonse promised him softly.

The two brothers stood on the balcony together as the train's whistle sounded, faint and lonely in the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #2 of 30: Snow.


End file.
